She Asked What?

October 7th, 2015

My self-confidence is gone. I say that as if I ever had any or like this state of mind is something new for me. I’m on a personal high, feeling on top of the world and then, BAM someone or something smacks me right back down to earth. Today it came in the form of a very noisy and naïve classmate. Now before I continue, let me disclaim that I am a bit on the thicker side. My stomach is not washboard flat. Never mind that fact, it still scorched my ego when she asked if I was with child. Now this is not the first time so I guess, unfortunately, I’m getting used to it. She tried to make small talk about it, which made it worst. She goes “doesn’t it bother you when people ask”. Like she didn’t just ask me herself. Now as politely as I could I said to her “No” and to her shocked face I responded “Because I don’t care”. And for some crazy reason, I still can’t seem to understand, I felt bad for my remark and said, “Not to be mean or anything, I just don’t really pay attention to it that much”. She proceeded to asked if it was a medical condition, like honestly, all I could think was “What the actual fuck? I mean this cannot be happening”. This insensitive little girl was truly concerned about what was going on with my body. And as I write this now, I’m even more puzzled. I honestly can’t tell if I should be mad at the audacity of this girl, appreciative of her concern. I just can’t seem to figure it out.

However as I stated before this was not something I haven’t experienced before. To be exact this has happened to me about… 6 times throughout my high school career. Just about one time every year and it never seems to hurt less. I mean I’m not on any diet, but I attempt to eat right and exercise moderately, and my stomach has gone down has gone down A LOT since my freshman year, but every time someone asks me that question, it makes me feel like it’s still not enough – like I’m not good enough. Like I’ll never be good enough. I’m always comparing myself to every female I see. Trying to figure out what’s wrong with me. And when things like this happen it makes me even more paranoid. I start to ponder why people up and leave me. And why do they ignore me? Why do the people I cherish more than my own life take advantage of me or take me for granted? Why do they hurt me? Well it’s has to be me, right? I mean there has to be something that I can fix within myself, that would change all that. Sometimes I wish there was a magic pill I could take that would turn me into that woman I dream of becoming. Or a fairy godmother. Sometimes I even go as far as believing that I’m just going to wake up one day and this life I’ve been living will all be a bad dream. A horrid and awful nightmare, really, that I wish every day I could wake up from, and forget I ever had it.

It depresses me. There are times I start to feel like I’m not worthy of human life. On my most depressing occasions I have those deep, dark, and scary thoughts when I’m all alone and feeling beyond repair. I start telling myself that no one truly loves me. That they won’t notice I’m gone, I serve no true purpose in this world. The goals I’ve set for myself will never be achieved. I’ve convinced myself that I won’t ever find true happiness, so why not…

I guess I’m just to scared to do it. Because I’d never hang myself and knives fucking scare the living shit out of me. It’s actually really pathetic and in a sense tragic. To yearn for the bliss of death, and yet not want to feel the pain that, depending on which route you choose, can at times come with it. I have to say if I ever got past the fear of the pain, and did do it, I’d fill my body with a wonderful deadly cocktail. No pain. Just a beautiful numbness. That’s how I’d want it. Numb, no feelings. I long for the ability to be numb to these pains and insecurities everyday of my horribly forsaken life.

But of course every time I think about it, suicide or substance abuse, no matter what I always feel guilty. I start to feel bad. Like I’d upset the people closest to me. I think about my mom, I think about my dad, then my siblings, and the people I call friends, and I chicken out. I can’t do it. I won’t, but I damn sure want to and wish I had the guts to. You see I’m just not happy. I can pretend all I want, but it’s ignorance like that girls that make me remember, bringing me back to my sad reality. I honestly feel like now I don’t want to know what true happiness is. I no longer crave the falsehood of being okay and being happy, only to have it snatched away by moments like this.

*Sigh* honestly my life…. I can’t even put it into words. It’s truly comical because even now while I’m typing this, I feel guilty, I feel like I should just be appreciative of the life I do have. I ask myself everyday: What Is Wrong With Me? Am I Crazy? Do I need help, like professional Help? as well as medication? Do I have a mental illness? And that leads me to the fact that I’m black and no matter what anyone else has to say I am convinced, that African-American families ignore mental illness. Like it doesn’t exist. I remember seeing a tumblr post that confirmed this idea. You see no matter how many times I hoot and holler, about how I might actually be crazy, my parents never listen, or they shut me down like I’m just being silly. I just don’t understand. But that’s my “God” awful life, so why would I expect help to get better.

Angelina Jolie Quote about Self-Worth. Digital image. SELF ESTEEM OR SELF CONFIDENCE – KNOW THE DIFFERENCE. N.p., n.d. Web.7 Oct. 2015.